Raistlin's Travels
by Draconicon
Summary: Nuitari informs Raistlin that there is another, in another world, who knows what is happening on Krynn, and whether he will succeed or fail in his attempt to achieve godhood. Rated M for possible actions later in the story.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure that this travel is wise, Shalafi?" Dalamar asked as his master's magic gleamed before him, fire growing and forming into the shape of a door. "Your health is improving, but with so many things needing attention here…and Highlord Kitiara still making trouble…Can you really risk leaving?"

The black robed archmage remained silent, leaning on his staff. His face, hidden by the hood of his robe, showed no hint to what he thought of his apprentice's worries. His attention remained riveted to the forming portal in the middle of his laboratory. The light of the flaming gate threw everything else into shadow, including the varied potion vials and spellbooks lining the walls of the room, even the silver bindings of the more powerful spellbooks dimming in comparison to the fire of the gate.

The fires flared brightly once, twice, and then settled down to the glow of a meager campfire. From its once splendidly fiery, amorphous form, it had settled down until it looked little difference from a door one would find in any shop or building on the continent of Ansalon. Of course, standing closed in the middle of the room spoiled the effect of normalcy, as did the presence of the slowly moving flames over the 'wood' of the door, as did the small window at eye level on the door. Or rather, what was seen through that window.

The window showed things that never had existed on Krynn, things that wouldn't exist in the lifetime of anyone now living. Shining metal beasts walked on legs of circles past the window, and the clothing of the few people in sight looked nothing like what people wore, even here in Palanthas. Even the stone houses in the background departed from Dalamar's view of normality, and, he suspected, from the way any dwarf would carve stone. Standing over ten feet in height, they did not even have the smatterings of decoration that the stonecarvers of Ansalon used to make the homes a little more palatable to the eye. Surely his Shalafi wasn't heading to this world of barbarians?

"Dalamar."

The black robed mage turned just enough to reveal his part of his face, his hourglass eyes and cunning smile lit by the flickering flames of the door. "You think louder than most drunkards talk. I would have thought you had learned better than that under my teachings."

"I apologize, Shalafi," the elf whispered, bowing his head and fixing his eyes to the floor. "I did not mean to question-"

"No, you wished to learn. As always. But to answer your question," the archmage said as approached the door, his golden skin seeming unharmed by the heat that blew off the portal, "this world is tied with ours. Someone there…someone there knows of the future here." Raistlin shook his head a couple of times, his hand tightening on his staff as he gripped the handle of the door-portal. "Nuitari himself told me this…you know as well as I how significant this must be if he is taking a hand in events."

Dalamar nodded, remembering the few times that the God of dark magic had descended from the moon that bore his name and spoken with his master directly. Despite having listened at the door, he never heard so much as a whisper of what was said until his Shalafi told him what had transpired. It was not due to the magical skills of his master that this would happen, either. It was simply that Nuitari and Raistlin could speak to each other in such soft voices and still be heard and understood by the other.

"I shall watch the city for you, Shalafi, and will tell you what has happened upon your return," Dalamar whispered, his eyes still glued to the floor. Out of the corner of his eyes, the elf could see his master's robes touch the flaming portal, and then start passing through. By the time that he raised his eyes, Raistlin was already almost completely through the portal. Merely a second later, the most powerful mage on the face of Ansalon had disappeared, as had the glowing portal behind him.

Dalamar remained in place for a few moments before gesturing to the ashes on the ground, making them vanish with a few muttered words. "May the gods of magic bring you home safely, Shalafi," he whispered again.


	2. Meeting the Contact

The flames of the portal dissipating under his feet, Raistlin stepped forward over the cracked stone under his feet. It bore some resemblance to the paved roads of Palanthas and other cities, but it was different. Rougher, somehow, but stronger as well. The same material covered most of the ground around him that he could see, and unlike the paved roads of cities on Ansalon, the roads didn't deteriorate before his eyes. At least, they didn't do so quite at the same rate.

Lifting his hourglass eyes to the houses around him, he saw that they were the same in his vision. What would take seconds to blow apart before the flow of time in Palanthas took several minutes, something that nearly took the archmage's breath away in amazement.

"What world have I come to?" he muttered under his breath as other details caught his attention. As he looked up and down the street, he saw skulls, candles, and some sort of plant placed over many households. Several houses even had a black robed figure holding a scythe near them, something that caught his attention like few things could. The few people that he could see walked around dressed in the most varied of guises, nothing like he had seen from his tower or in all his life.

There was a person who almost looked like they were trying to be a pirate, and beside the pirate, what looked like some form of enlarged pixie stood. As more and more people walked by under the single moon in the sky, Raistlin noticed that was the most normal thing that he could see. Some along the streets dressed as soldiers, some dressed as things that he'd never seen. Others fit in between those groups, yet…he could not see anyone that might be the person that might know what he wanted to find out.

"I don't even know what he looks like," Raistlin muttered to himself, his hand clenching tightly over the wood of his staff. Glaring from his position in shadow, he leaned against a nearby tree that stuck out of the paved ground. For now, he would watch, and hope that the situation made itself clearer soon.

Eric Pallos walked the streets, mingling with the many costumed trick or treaters that swarmed this street. It was the same as every year. Everyone that was between the age of three and twenty three flooded the streets as Halloween came around, and every year, at least half of the group made a fool of themselves by getting too much in character with their costume, or from having an inferior costume in comparison to everyone else, or from a hundred other little reasons.

Despite all of these problems and more, Eric never missed it. The candy that he'd get and the costumes that he'd see were always wonderful, and gave him ideas for the stories that he wrote in his free time. If the price he paid was a couple of blushes of embarrassment and being jostled off of the sidewalk from time to time, that was a price worth paying for inspiration.

As he walked by a tree on the corner of the street, however, one costume grabbed his attention more than the cardboard cut-out costumes that one would find at the stores. The smooth black sheen of the robe, the glitter of the orb on the top of the staff, and the sheer realism of the items that hung from the costumer's belt just couldn't be bought in a store. Always appreciative of the efforts of people that made their own costumes, Eric began making his way over to the fellow Dragonlance enthusiast. There weren't too many out there that would make a costume of Raistlin Majere, and he wouldn't mind meeting the guy that decided to give it a try.

As he got closer to the stranger, however, he attracted the other's attention, and froze in his tracks in amazement at how far this one had gone. The golden skin color, the hourglass eyes, he seemed to be an exact replica of the archmage of Krynn, the most powerful magic-user to ever walk Ansalon since Fistandantilus himself. All of this would be enough to break the bank for Halloween, for most people.

Raistlin blinked a couple of times at the approaching figure, but relaxed somewhat when he saw the way this stranger looked at him. The look of recognition was something nobody could hide when they saw someone familiar, and the way that this stranger watched him showed that he knew who and what he was, even though Raistlin knew nothing about him. More than that, the red robes that the stranger wore looked exactly like those that those under Justarius in the Conclave wore, yet another sign that whoever this was knew of the workings of Krynn.

Feeling that he would be in the company of another colleague, even if not one with the same allegiances as his own, he stepped out of the shadows of the tree. "It seems strange to meet another mage this night, but it is welcome," Raistlin said as he walked closer to the red robe. "Who are you? What is your rank in your Conclave?"

The red robe stopped in his tracks, and looked at him up and down. Raistlin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this strange display, and he stopped where he was as well, his hand reaching down to the spell components at his waist. His other hand tightened over the Staff of Magius, and his glance at the red robe turned into a glare.

Before he could ask another question, however, the red robe said, "You're…you're really Raistlin Majere, aren't you?"

Raistlin blinked a couple of times at the surprise in the other's voice, but bit back a caustic reply. If this was another world, he should consider himself lucky that this other knew his name at all. "Yes. I am Raistlin. I see that you are of the Red Robes, and I repeat, what is your name?" When the Red Robe still refused to speak, Raistlin took another step forward, beginning to lift his staff a little higher.

"I truly hope that you are merely struck dumb, rather than this slow normally," he hissed, taking slow steps toward the silent Red Robe. "I didn't come here to find someone as dim as my brother, even if he might know what will happen with my plans for the future."

"Definitely Raistlin," the stranger muttered as he walked a little closer to the archmage. "However the hell you got he-well, whatever magic you used to get here, you're going to have to come with me right now. If someone else finds out you're here…well, you and I would be in more trouble than you can imagine…even including the hordes Takhisis might be able to summon," he added under his breath, gesturing for Raistlin to follow.

Bristling under the hood of his robe, Raistlin did exactly that, though he did admit that this Red Robe certainly could take charge of a situation handily.


End file.
